


Strung Up

by Sinistretoile



Series: The Pieces of Pine [2]
Category: The Night Manager (TV), The Night Manager - Jean Le Carré
Genre: Awkward Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs, Captivity, Caretaking, Episode 2, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Rescue, Rope Bondage, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Stranger Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere between Iraq and Switzerland, Jonathon Pine finds himself in the Caribbean at the mercy of an angel in a string bikini.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strung Up

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Corky's 'string you up by your ankles and let the truth just fall out' comment.

Abby had expatriated from the United States years ago. When her husband died of an inoperable brain aneurysm, he’d left her a substantial life insurance policy. She settled down to spend the rest of her days on a small private island in the Caribbean. She bought a small house and a tract of land along the beach. The first few years were peaceful, quiet. That was until a civil war on a neighboring island spilled over onto her island. Her neighbors and she made sure the warring factions knew they were neutral. If they helped both sides equally or ignored both sides equally, they were left alone.  
Abby noticed the increased traffic at the edge of her property. She watched for days. Men with guns went straight into the woods from a skiff pulled up into the sand. They would emerge in the same fashion. She didn’t acknowledge them and they left her alone. It must have been the wind that carried the man’s shouts to her. For her curiosity grew. It grew to the point she wandered closer each time they left. Abby discovered two things. One, they left no men on the island, expect one. Two, the man was in a shed deep in the woods.  
Almost like clockwork, the men arrived then left. She waited until they were out of sight of the island then stole into the woods. Though with proper planning, she would have taken some type of weapon for defense. And proper footwear. But there was no turning back now.  
Abby approached the shed. Her bare feet made no noise on the soft, moist soil. She waited outside the door, heart pounding and breath rapid. This was exciting! This was fucking stupid. But it was exciting!  
A hoarse voice called from inside the shed. “You out there.” She froze. “I can smell you.” She mouthed ‘shit’. “Help me.”  
“I can’t…” She bit her lip, noticing the English accent.  
“The hell you can’t. Open the door and untie me. Quick before they come back.”  
“They’re not coming back today. I heard they were attacking the capital.”  
“Bloody hell.” Wood creaked within the shed followed by the solid sound of his body hitting the wall. “Help me, for the love of God.”  
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”  
She held her breath in the silence that followed. “I know. They’ll hurt you if you do.” She swallowed. “At least open the door for a moment. It’s fucking sweltering in here.”  
Abby expected to find the door locked, but it swung open with surprising ease. The smell that assaulted her was abhorrent. Urine, feces, blood and rot, and old death. And all left to bake in the tropical sun. “Christ, it smells like a slaughterhouse in here.”  
“Thank you.”  
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A slice of sunlight showed her a long, tall man hung up by his ankles, his hands bound at the small of his back and tied around his waist. He looked shockingly alright for the stench that came from the shed.  
“They bring people here to torture and kill, don’t they?”  
“I’m afraid so.”  
She stepped cautiously into the shed. The man’s back was still to her. “How long have you been here?”  
“Only a few days.”  
“So the smell…”  
“Is not me.” He clutched at her first world sensibilities. “Can you at least give me water?”  
“Yes-yes.” Her bare feet scuffed in the dirt as she looked for anything that might contain water.  
“There’s a bucket in the corner. I don’t believe it’s gone fetid or stagnant yet.”  
Abby retrieved the bucket. She crouched by his head and held him still then turned him around to face her. She blinked in surprise. At the bruised and bloody condition of his face and the handsome features below the grit and scruff.  
“Water, darling.”  
“Oh! Sorry, I’m so sorry.” She used her hands to scoop up the water and pour it into his open mouth. Dirt and sweat had caked to him. He was nothing she was normally attracted to, expect handsome. And so English. But something about his beaten appearance, strung up and dirty pinged right through her. She went a step further than he’d asked and dripped the warm water down his sweaty neck. She filled her cupped hands and pressed them to his short dark blonde hair, combing it through the military-regulation cut.  
He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment. “Forgive me for saying so but you smell divine.” Abby blushed and ducked her head to the side. “It’s how I knew you weren’t one of them. What’s your name?”  
“Abigail, Abby for short.”  
“I’m Jonathon. Look, I know you can’t help, but could you maybe loosen the ropes just a smidge? I’ll do the rest.”  
“I can’t, Jonathon. Please.”  
The man in him forgot he was a captive by a rebel force. He liked the way she said his name. And ‘please’. The man in him thought momentarily of his angelic creature lying beneath him, looking up with those gorgeous green eyes and dark lashes, saying ‘Jonathon, please’. He could feel his body responding to his chagrin. His eyes flicked to her delicious cleavage. The tiny string bikini covered her delicate bits with minimal fabric. He could make out the darker outline of her nipples beneath the triangles of shell pink fabric. She must have felt his gaze because they pebbled.  
He licked his lips as his gaze went lower. He could see the outline of the cleft of her pussy lips. If she shifted just right, he might get a glimpse of her mound. She cleared her throat and he raised his head. She waited with a handful of water. “You licked your lips…I thought you needed another drink.”  
“Oh.” He opened his mouth to accept the tepid liquid. He sucked the droplets from her fingertips. Her gasp shot straight to his now obviously hard cock. She surprised him by leaning over and pressing her lips to his. Her breasts hovered before his head in his upside down position. He breathed in a lungful of her scent. Lavender, citrus and coconut and spices. She surprised him for a second time by standing up. “Wait, don’t go.”  
Abby palmed his cock through the BDU pants. He couldn’t stop the groan. His body flexed and swung by the rope around his ankles. She steadied him then opened his zipper. His cock pushed against the fabric of his boxers. She reached in and pulled him out through the courtesy flap of the boxers.  
“Please…” He was breathless, panting in the stale air of the shed and her scent. Her scent he would remember forever. She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock. He was larger than any man she’d been with, but she gave it her all. Her lips and tongue working him closer and closer.  
Jonathon strained on the ropes at his wrists, flexing his hands. He wanted free. He needed free. Not just to escape anymore, but to touch her, kiss her, lick her, fuck her. The blood pounding through his head made him dizzy, floating on the edge of exquisite pleasure on the tip of her tongue. He moaned, deep and low. He was so close. She was so close.  
He rubbed his scruff against her thigh. The scent of her skinned warred with the musky, clean scent of her cunt. A different scent that grew stronger with each bob of her mouth down his shaft, each lick of her tongue, each stroke of her hand. She liked this. Giving this strange man she’d just met a blow job turned her on. He spotted a darkening spot on the fabric and groaned again. What he’d give to suck on the spot. Then he lost all thought. He came hard, his world going white then dark.  
Abby swallowed what little cum this dehydrated man gave her then tucked him tenderly away, leaving no trace of her action. He’d fallen silent, breathing heavily. She crouched down again, smiling. Her smile faded, realization falling on her.  
“Jonathon?” No answer. He’d lost consciousness. “Shit!” She grunted as she gathered his limp upper body up, struggling to keep him upright. “Jonathon?” She patted his cheek, his upper body propped on her shoulder. “Jonathon.” She slapped him, struggling to keep them both upright. He gasped awake. “Oh thank god. I thought I’d killed you.”  
He blinked a few times then smiled weakly. “You surely have…” She blushed. “Give me a moment then you need to leave in case they come back.”  
She didn’t want to leave. She knew the risk of her helping him. She also suspected they might kill him when they returned. She chewed her lip as she thought. An action he thought was painfully adorable.  
“I wish I could touch you.”  
Abby swallowed then smiled. She eased him down then turned him around. He flexed his fingers, trying desperately to reach her. What she did next was unexpected. She placed a kiss in the palm of each of his hands. He caressed her cheeks and chin, attempting to memorize her by touch. She loosened a coil of rope from his wrists and slipped it free from his waist.  
“Head due east…” Abby left the door to the shed open. Her scent lingered in the air after she'd gone. He grinned to himself as he set to work on the ropes. He couldn’t wait to hear her say ‘Jonathon, please’.


End file.
